


Necessary Force

by SweetestHoney



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But aren't we all, Jaskier wants rough sex, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Truth Serum, Truth Spells, Yen is only mentioned for a sec, and gets it, but I figured I'd mention her, jaskier just has a lot of feelings about geralt and the fact that he thinks of himself as a monster, nobody is actually raped but I tagged for it just in case, oof is Jaskier a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Jaskier is perfectly content with his life - he has Geralt, he has a beautiful journey ahead of him, and there's only one thing he still wants. And he's determined to never, ever let Geralt know. When a little truth potion gets added to the mix, he's sure Geralt won't like hearing what he wants. Or will he?((Jaskier has a rape fantasy, and has very good reasons for keeping that from Geralt until he can't))
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 626





	Necessary Force

**Author's Note:**

> And I oop. This was, uh, *not* supposed to be as long as it is. Hopefully it's still alright lol!

Jaskier had a problem. More specifically, he had a  _ Witcher _ problem. His problem wasn't lack for a hot, witty, unfailingly gruff man to fuck him into the ground (or bed, or tent floor, or wall, or bathtub, and really if you're going to include bathtubs you might as well mention that standing shower they'd been given after Geralt slayed some hideous something or other for a Duke – but that's beside the point), but rather more specifically, that said man was not aware of some of Jaskier's wants. 

That's all they were – wants, not something  _ needed _ . Not mandatory, no. But still he felt the clench in his throat every time Geralt was rough in bed, or snarled at him, or... well, okay, really it was pretty much every time he had eyes on the man. That need for something more. Something  _ feral _ .

"Jaskier!" 

Jaskier looked up from tuning his lute to see Geralt frowning at him from across the bustling inn. "Job. Come on." Geralt turned and walked towards the stairs towards the room they'd been in without looking back towards Jaskier. 

Jaskier hurried to follow, giving an apologetic smile to the people who'd already started gathering in hopes of hearing him play. He'd entertained them much throughout the three nights him and Geralt had been there, but the crowds were ravenous, always pressing for more. Jas was almost relieved to finally be leaving, Geralt having finally been paid after an inordinate amount of time spent as the last man to hire his services pleaded for a few days to get the money. Something about a shipment being due. Jaskier hadn't really paid much attention when Geralt explained it, and he really didn't care to know any more of the specifics. All he knew was that Geralt had finally gotten paid, and they could leave. 

When he caught up with Geralt, Jaskier slowed his pace, matching the larger man in the narrow hallway. Side by side with Geralt, he was all too aware of the differences between their bodies, and how easily Geralt could overpower him, even if he was just a normal (giant) human being. 

"So, what's the new job? I hope it's something great, something truly awe inspiring that'll inspire my next ballad, to be told for hundreds of years to come!" Geralt didn't look at him, staring forwards as he walked, and Jaskier told himself it didn't matter. "Something evil? Killing young girls and kidnapping babies?" Geralt's cheek twitched in the way that would be a smile on anyone else, and Jaskier counted that as a win. 

"Something like that." Jaskier waited as they arrived at the door of their room, Geralt pausing in the conversation to unlock the door and step through, letting it swing back and almost hitting Jas in the face. He scrambled to catch it before it locked him out. He looked back at Geralt to see another reach of his cheek before his face smoothed out, placid. Jaskier should bristle at the casual antagonism, something that even years of knowing each other couldn't entirely eradicate – not that either of them had tried very hard. At least now Jaskier had a way to get back at him, sort of. 

He stepped through the door as well, closing it sharply behind himself. "So? A creature? A job?" 

Geralt nodded, breaking eye contact and moving to start packing up their belongings. It still thrilled Jaskier every time he thought of them as 'their' belongings, not his own small pile of things and then Geralt's. 

"Not a creature. Mage, two days west. Should be a town about halfway that's willing to pay, so they can get supplies through the mountain pass again." Geralt's voice, rough as ever, was low and even, and he packed methodically without looking at Jaskier. Jaskier frowned, unhappy with the man's demeanor. 

"Well don't sound so pleased about it, Geralt, people will think you've got mad." Geralt leveled a look at him before turning back to packing. 

"Lot of mages recently. Just odd that there'd be another one so soon." Geralt finished throwing clothes into the bag he was holding and closed it, standing it by the door. "If there's a reason for it, I need to find out what it is." Jaskier winced at the mention of the other mages they'd interacted with lately. The most recent had nearly beheaded him and it was only pure dumb luck that had saved him at the last minute, the man's spell only grazing him, but still leaving a heavily bleeding neck wound to take care of. Jaskier winced again at the memory of his own behavior in those moments – he'd admit that he hadn't the highest pain tolerance of the two of them. 

Geralt finished packing up with a swift and brutal efficiency that had Jaskier wondering if maybe Geralt had also been thinking of the last mage he tackled, and Jaskier's potentially fatal injury, and that was the cause for his discomfort with the job. Either way, Jaskier could only do his best to stay out of the way as the other man packed, avoiding the whirlwind of activity. 

Soon they were both ready, Roach saddled with Geralt astride her and Jaskier keeping pace easily. They traveled in silence for a while, or at least as close to silence as Jaskier ever really got, humming absently as he walked. 

When they reached the village at the halfway point, they stopped for the night to rest and find someone willing to pay Geralt to go deal with the mage. They parted ways when they reached an inn, Jaskier to get them a room for the night and Geralt to go find someone rich enough to be worth shaking down. 

The innkeeper was a rough older woman, with arms like iron and a perpetual scowl. Jaskier gave her his sunniest grin and an obvious once-over, watching as her eyes widened ever so slightly and a flush came to her cheeks, not used to men flirting with her unless they were extremely drunk. 

"May I procure a room for the night in this lovely establishment, madame?" Jaskier leaned his arms on the bar as he spoke, trying not to put an elbow in any sticky patches. The woman nodded, setting down the glass she'd been polishing. 

"Yeah, got one left." Jaskier paid the woman for the room and the stable for Roach (as well as a bath for Geralt), and started unpacking his things while he waited for the other man to return. 

The man returned after a few hours, grumpy but successful. He'd found one of the locals to shake down and get a promise of some coin for killing the mage, and gotten the rough location as well. The bath was ready just before he returned, and Jaskier watched as he stepped into the room, groaning when he saw the ready water. 

It didn’t take Geralt long to disrobe, and he sunk into the hot water with another groan that had Jaskier adjusting himself, cock thickening at the sound despite his best efforts to remain neutral. 

“Well?” Geralt’s voice rang through the quiet room, and Jaskier looked up from where he’d been sitting at the small table, idly playing with lyrics on a piece of parchment. Geralt, sitting in the bath, was looking at him, one eyebrow raised. “Are you going to join me?” The tension was gone from his shoulders and he’d sunk down so the water covered him nearly to the neck, eyes closed while he soaked. Jaskier stood and walked over to the tub, kneeling beside it when he got close. 

“You want me to join you?” Before they started sleeping together, Jaskier had (sometimes, occasionally) indulged in the fantasy of joining Geralt in one of his baths, when he was alone with his own hands, although it had been quite a while since he’d thought about it, given that he was getting plenty of regular sex with the man himself. But he quite liked the idea of joining Geralt and being pressed against the other man’s body in the warm, soothing water, so he started stripping off, his clothing practically disappearing as he rushed to remove it. 

Geralt’s chuckle was low, and Jaskier’s head whipped up when he heard it, hoping to get a glance of the man smiling, since it was such a rare occurrence. Geralt’s grin was slow and sultry and Jaskier nearly tripped as he removed his pants when they made eye contact. Geralt cocked his head and used one finger to beckon Jaskier forward. 

Jaskier somehow finally managed to remove his clothing, and he stepped into the bath with one foot and then the other, sinking down into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure. Geralt spread his legs, letting Jaskier settle between them so he lay against Geralt’s chest, his face pressed into the other man’s neck. 

“This is nice.” Jaskier’s words were little more than a breath as he felt his eyes drifting shut, the warmth of the water and the closeness of Geralt’s bulk lulling him into a stupor almost immediately. Geralt’s hands came up to wrap around his chest, holding them tightly together. 

Geralt was hard, Jaskier was not stupid, but he didn’t move to initiate anything immediately, instead enjoying the feeling of contentment he had in that moment, the peace between them. He knew they’d fuck at some point in the evening (and likely much more than just the once) but he wasn’t in any rush, content to soak next to Geralt for the time being. 

After a few minutes of sitting and soaking and Geralt’s hands running up and down his chest, tweaking his nipples and scratching down his smooth skin, Jaskier felt his body responding to the other man’s touch, his cock coming to full hardness against his stomach. Geralt ‘hmm’-ed and ran his hands down Jaskier’s stomach, his fingers brushing along Jaskier’s length almost absently. Jaskier would have thought Geralt was unaware of the teasing touch had he now known the man intimately, and known what he was capable of. 

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms, moving slowly in the water until they were pressed chest to chest, their erections sliding against each other. Geralt’s hands came up to cup his ass, holding him in place and kneading the flesh there. Jaskier groaned at the feeling of Geralt’s large hands holding him against the other man, his own hands coming up to hold himself steady against Geralt’s shoulders. 

“Oh fuck, oh  _ fuck _ – Geralt, shit that’s – oh  _ fuck. _ ” Geralt pressed his lips to Jaskier just to get him to stop talking, kissing him soundly. Jaskier, of course, kept talking, murmuring words of pleasure against Geralt’s lips even as they kissed. 

Geralt rutted against Jaskier with a lazy sort of rhythm, aligning their bodies so their cocks were trapped between them, the warm water and their bodies creating some delicious friction. After a few minutes of that, the need for more became pressing, and Jaskier dug his fingernails into Geralt’s sides, gripping him tightly. Geralt growled in warning and Jaskier had to fight the urge to come right then and there as the sound shot down his spine like lightning. 

“Geralt, I need – more, please, want to feel you.” Geralt, instead of acknowledging the words, stood, holding Jaskier to him easily as water dripped down both their bodies. It only took him four steps until he had Jaskier pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist as he rutted. “Geralt, please, touch me.” He growled again, one hand dropping between them to wrap around both cocks, tugging with a harsh rhythm. Jaskier gave a high pitched whine, making small ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises, and threw his head back. 

Geralt didn’t stop in his movements, rocking his hips against Jaskier’s, even as he tightened his grip. The hand not on Jaskier’s cock would probably leave bruises on his hip and ass where he held the bard’s full weight against the wall, but Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Jaskier spilled himself; losing himself in Geralt’s grip never failed to make Geralt come, since the bard was never shy about his pleasure. Geralt would admit to no small amount of enjoyment at marking Jaskier with his seed, covering him in Geralt’s scent so everyone would know the bard was  _ his _ . When Jaskier finally came, Geralt came near simultaneously, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s in hopes of stifling the smaller man’s usually very vocal pleasure. Geralt loved hearing Jaskier scream for him, but more often than not innkeepers were less than thrilled and he  _ tried  _ to keep from getting kicked out of half the inns on the continent. 

Jaskier didn’t protest when Geralt set him down on the bed, getting a damp cloth and wiping at the sticky mess on his own stomach before cleaning Jaskier off. He got a sleepy smile for his effort and bent to kiss Jaskier without thinking, licking into his mouth and deepening the kiss in seconds. 

The kiss broke when Jaskier’s stomach let out a loud growl of its own, and Geralt pulled back, trying to keep from chuckling. Jaskier crossed his arms over his stomach and gave him a guilty grin, sheepish. 

“I’ll get us dinner, and then we should sleep.” Geralt’s voice brooked no arguments, and Jaskier only gave him a nod in agreement. “Got a long ride in the morning.” Jaskier perked up at that, his head coming up to meet Geralt’s gaze. 

“You mean I can come? Oh, this is exciting!” He sat up and shook off some of his sleepiness, already planning out the ride. “Oh, I’ll be able to get so much good material, watching the fight with the mage – ooh, what kind of evil things has he been doing? Enchanting villagers? Sacrificing them?” Geralt gave another grunt, not confirming or denying. 

Jaskier spent the rest of the night pestering Geralt about the mage and what kind of badness he’d gotten up to, so as to lay the groundwork for his ballad. Geralt answered with as little words as he could over supper, and took Jaskier to bed after they were finished eating, wearing him out so well that after the second round, Jaskier nodded right off without any additional prodding from Geralt. 

The mage ended up being both a lot easier and a lot harder to find than Jaskier expected. When they followed the directions given Geralt by one of the locals, the road took them straight to the creepy old castle that the mage was using as a hideout – Jaskier was shocked that they found the place with no trouble, since the directions had pretty much been “keep going south and you’ll see it”. 

Getting to the mage  _ inside  _ the castle was another story. The asshole had rigged up so many booby traps and pitfalls that it took them the better half of the morning to get through most of them, and Geralt was looking a lot more annoyed as he cut his way through a growth of vines that were poisonous to humans and had grown completely over a doorway they had to enter. 

Jaskier hovered behind him, waiting until it was safe and the vines were dead. Geralt hacked at them for slightly longer than was necessary, the annoyance clear in the taut lines of his body. When he was finally finished, he whirled, his eyes searching Jaskier out in the gloom. 

“Jaskier. Come.” It wasn’t the first time Jaskier had been ordered to do so and he opened his mouth to make a quip, but instead bit his lip, deciding for once in his life that maybe it would be a better idea not to annoy the mountain-sized man. He hurried to follow as Geralt strode through the doorway and into what looked to be a large library, with tables piled with books and shelves full of all sorts of random things. 

Geralt paid no attention to the various items around the room, cutting an efficient line around the furniture and towards the door on the other side of the room. Jaskier walked more slowly, taking time to look at all the odds and ends. He’d nearly gotten halfway across the room when he saw it – gleaming high on a shelf and looking like heaven. 

From what he could see, the lute was beautiful, painted in lovely gold and purple hues and clearly well made, although from his vantage point he couldn’t see much of the front. It was high up, and he wouldn’t be able to reach it from the floor. He looked around, trying to see an easily accessible chair to pull over, but found none. The shelves looked sturdy, however, and when Jaskier put his foot on one of the bottom ones it held his weight easily. 

He started climbing, using the shelves as a ladder, and slowly made his way to the shelf that held the lute. It was near the ceiling and he didn’t look down, aware that the distance to the ground would make him woozy. When he reached the shelf below the lute with his hands, he braced himself with one while reaching out for it with the other, hoping it would be able to easily fit under his arm while he climbed back down. 

He got one hand around the neck and pulled, but what he hadn’t anticipated was the fact that there was a pile of stuff stacked on top of the body of the instrument. When he tugged at it, it dislodged a whole avalanche of crap that fell forward, moving with the lute and dislodging his grip on the shelves. 

Jaskier barely had enough time to spare a thought for how angry Geralt would be with him if this is how he died before he was falling. He couldn’t do anything to keep himself from falling, and he braced himself, trying to remember if there was a better way to land to not injure himself. He couldn’t think of one, and when he did finally hit the floor, it hurt. A lot. 

“Ow.” He tried to speak, to move, but the wind had been knocked clean out of him and he couldn’t, paralyzed with pain and breathlessness. He just lay there for long moments, still covered with the items that had fallen with and landed painfully on him. 

“Jaskier, what was that?” Geralt’s footsteps grew louder from the direction he’d disappeared, and Jaskier’s eyes flew open as he tried to right himself, pushing all of the stuff that fell on him aside even as he was still gasping for air. 

“Jaskier, I heard something. It better not be you.” Jaskier had just managed to sit up, one hand pressed to his chest as he wheezed when Geralt rounded the corner, his eyes immediately cataloguing the situation. 

“What happened?” His voice was flat and his eyes narrowed as he took Jaskier in. 

“There was a-” Jaskier cut off and looked around, searching for the lute. It had landed next to him, but when he picked it up, he frowned, turning it over in his hands. “What?” 

The gold and purple paint was peeling, revealing the warped wood underneath, and most of the strings were broken or frayed. The instrument was useless, and it would probably cost more to repair than it had been bought for new. “Fuck, that’s – fuck.” He threw the lute away from himself in annoyance. When he looked back at Geralt, the man was still stony, glaring at him. “I – there was – look, just, nevermind, I’m an idiot, let’s just get this done and get going.” 

Geralt grunted, exhaling through his nose like a bull. “You could be hurt.” Jaskier shook his head, waving off the other man, who had not moved an inch to help him. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a bruise. Now the wound to my heart at finding out that the beautiful instrument wasn’t worth the trouble, that will take much longer to heal.” He slowly climbed to his knees and stood, shaking off the various debris that still lingered on him. 

When he looked back to Geralt, the man was watching him, eyes still narrow. “What’s that?” 

Jaskier looked where Geralt pointed and bent over, picking up the small bottle off the floor. What was left of it, anyway, since it had clearly shattered when the shelf had fallen, smashing against the ground. The clear liquid inside was puddled on the ground, and Jaskier still stood in the small wet patch, having been splashed when it broke. He patted his clothes and found a few wet spots he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“Oh.” He dropped the bottle and it landed with a clink on the ground. “Well, what are the chances that was just water?” He gave Geralt a winning smile and Geralt just grunted again, stalking closer until he was inches from Jaskier. Jaskier’s mouth dried up at the proximity and he licked his lips, eyes focused on Geralt’s mouth. 

“Not water.” Geralt crouched, touching the liquid with his fingertips before sniffing it and then looking back to Jaskier. “Do you feel alright?” 

Jaskier shrugged, thinking the question over. “I’m sore from falling but otherwise no adverse effects so far.” He shrugged. “Maybe we just got lucky?” 

Geralt actually snorted at that, straightening to tower over Jaskier once more. Jaskier felt his heartbeat kick up a notch in response and hoped Geralt wouldn’t notice. By the other man’s smirk, he thought it was safe to assume Geralt  _ had _ noticed. 

“When was the last time either one of us got lucky with anything in our lives?” Geralt stepped closer to Jaskier, crowding him. Jaskier opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. 

“Well I got to have you for a time and I count myself pretty lucky.” The unexpected pronouncement took them both by surprise, and Geralt’s eyes widened as he leaned back. Jaskier, baffled as to why he had said that, looked back at Geralt in alarm. “I didn’t - I didn’t intend to say that. It just came out. Maybe there is something wrong with me.” He felt his breath getting faster as he considered all the things that potion could have done to him, what could be happening right now inside of him. 

Geralt didn’t seem to be as worried, most of the tension in his shoulders actually relaxed at Jaskier’s words, although his eyes still darted over the other man, cataloguing him. “That’s – actually, that narrows it down a lot. There were quite a few things that could have been, but now I think I know what it was.” Jaskier paused in his transition to hyperventilating to shoot Geralt a look. 

“Well? What was it?” Jaskier frowned at Geralt, who rolled his eyes. 

“What’s your real first name?” Jaskier didn’t have time to even wonder what Geralt was getting at before he heard himself answering. 

“Julian.” His eyes widened and he took a step back. “No, nope, not doing this. If you try to tell me that this is a fucking  _ truth potion _ or something, I will-” 

Geralt was actually smiling now, and the sight was so rare that it caught Jaskier off guard, stopping the flow of words from his mouth. 

“Truth potion.” Geralt’s words betrayed the same amusement as his grin, and Jaskier was now a little terrified. He’d never seen Geralt so happy, and it made him very worried for himself. “If I’m right, it’s not gonna be easy to cure, but it won’t kill you.” His eyes flickered from Jaskier’s face back to the door he’d come through, the direction the mage still awaited. “Can deal with it later. I’ll finish up quickly.” 

Jaskier spluttered, eyebrows drawing together as his hands came up to shove Geralt back, which did exactly as much as he’d expected, but it still felt better to have done. “How – you – how  _ dare _ – Geralt!” Geralt was smiling again and Jaskier stomped his foot. “You are  _ not _ going to just  _ leave me like this _ while you deal with the mage, are you?” Geralt shrugged, turning back towards the door. 

“Should be fine; I won’t ask you anything if you don’t want me to. Just don’t start talking of your own free will and you’ll be fine.” Jaskier groaned, hurrying to catch up before Geralt pulled too far ahead. Geralt raised an eyebrow at him as he caught up, but didn’t say anything further. 

Jaskier glared at Geralt pointedly. “You do remember how much I talk, right?” Geralt’s face twitched in his usual grin, just a momentary flicker before it was gone, and nodded. “How the hell do you expect me to just - just not talk? I have to talk! I’m a bard!” His eyes widened as he realized something. “Oh, oh god, you don’t think – what if I can’t sing? All the songs I wrote about you are mostly fiction, because your regular exploits are more disgusting than heroic.” Geralt growled low under his breath at the slight and Jaskier had to consciously repress his body’s reaction to the sound, lest Geralt notice and never let him live it down. Plus, Geralt was too much of a workaholic to get distracted with sex during the middle of a hunt. Well, most of the time. 

“Just sing other stuff that you didn’t write. You don’t know if that’s true or not.” Jaskier still seemed huffy, and he crossed his arms. 

“Well I prefer singing my original content, seeing as I am aiming to be a world famous bard one day, but I guess that’s an alright compromise for the moment.” He sighed, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. “I do hope that you know that we are fixing this  _ as soon _ as that stupid mage is dead, and not a second later, do you understand?” Geralt grunted, and Jaskier took that as a yes. 

The mage himself was a bit of a letdown. Geralt killed him before he had time to stand out of his ornately disgusting throne, and Jasker skipped closer to peer at the chair itself, created with human and animal bones twined together to create a flat seat and backboard. The rope holding it together appeared to be made of human hair, but he couldn’t be sure without getting closer. He was completely fine assuming some details rather than seeing for himself. 

Geralt went through the mage’s things quickly, taking anything of value and then approaching the corpse. The man had his hair in an ornately styled bun, and Geralt shrugged before using one of his swords to slice it neatly off, pocketing the bundle of hair as proof that he’d killed the man. It would drip less than his head would, in any case. 

“I would really like to leave, now.” Jaskier’s voice wasn’t shaky, but Geralt knew him too well and could tell by his tone that he was nearing the end of his rope. Geralt grunted and nodded, turning from the body to see Jaskier standing in the center of the room, arms crossed and foot tapping. 

“Let’s go.” 

They made their way back through the castle, this time not setting off any traps, thankfully, and when they got back to Roach, Jaskier was nearly vibrating with pent up energy. 

Geralt thought he’d appreciate some silence from the bard, but the reality of it actually set him on edge somewhat. The bard was normally so boisterous, to have him just trodding along at Geralt’s side threw him off greatly and he found himself paying more attention to the other man than he would have otherwise. Jaskier’s brows were furrowed and his gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of him, putting one foot in front of the other. 

“How are you?” Geralt surprised himself with the question, and Jaskier’s head shot up, his gaze finding Geralt’s immediately. 

“Miserable.” The hand he’d clapped over his mouth landed too late, and Geralt watched his eyes widen as he realized what he’d said. Geralt thought it was actually natural that he was miserable – if the tables were turned he’d have been more than miserable. He’d probably be suicidal if he was trapped with truth potion and Jaskier. He frowned and stopped in his tracks, turning to face Jaskier. Jaskier stopped as well, looking like he was walking to the gallows. 

Geralt sighed, and rubbed at his temple with the heel of his hand. “I’m - I’m sorry.” Jaskier’s eyes somehow got even wider, his brow furrowing in disbelief. Geralt closed his eyes, unable to hold his gaze. “I said – I told you I wouldn’t ask you anything, and I did without thinking. I should have realized.” He waited a moment, the silence settling between them, Jaskier’s hand still firmly clamped over his mouth. “And, of course, if you wish to share with me why you’re so miserable, I would be amicable to listen, but I do not ask it of you.” Jaskier’s eyes softened a little at that, and he took a deep breath in through his nose. 

After another breath he nodded, lowering his hand and opening his mouth. Before he spoke, his eyes flicked away from Geralt’s for a moment and then they were back, catching the man’s golden irises again. 

“If I could ask you anything and get the truth I probably wouldn’t be as restrained as you’re being, and I thank you for that, and accept your apology.” He sniffed, running a hand through his hair and turning his head, breaking eye contact. “As for why I’m miserable, I just – I know I’m an open book most of the time, but there’s also stuff you don’t know about me. I’m not – I haven’t murdered someone or anything, but just stuff I haven’t really told you?” Geralt raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I don’t - I don’t know, I’m being stupid. Worrying about trying not to talk too much for the next however long I’m stuck until we can find a cure. I’m not one for keeping quiet, you know?” Geralt  _ did  _ know, and he exhaled loudly through his nose. 

Jaskier kept babbling, spouting nonsense until Geralt took a step forward, into Jaskier’s personal space. As Jaskier took in the presence of Geralt so close to him his words trailed off and he tilted his head up, his lips meeting Geralt’s in a practiced motion. 

They kissed until Jaskier was out of breath and Geralt broke the kiss to let him catch it, pulling back slightly and looking Jaskier in the eyes. “Stop being stupid.” Geralt’s voice was flat but his eyes and cheek twitch suggest he was more amused by Jaskier’s worries than worried himself about his lover. “You’ll be fine, we’ll find a cure, and everything will be normal.” Jaskier nodded, breathing coming back to normal. 

“Thank you, I think I needed that. I’ll stop being stupid.” Jaskier gave him a weak but genuine smile, hands flattening against Geralt’s chest between them. “Do you know who might know how to fix this?” Geralt allowed the change of subject and cocked his head, thinking. There were several people that could probably do the job, but none of them were close. The closest to their current location was about a week’s ride south, and Geralt was only about 75% sure that one would be able to reverse the truth serum. It was tricky stuff, and took a steady hand. 

“I’ve got a few candidates, but I don’t think any are ideal. Let me think on it, and I’ll have a plan by the time we leave in the morning.” 

Jaskier harumphed, rolling his eyes. “In the morning? You’re getting paid and we’re leaving, we’ve got to go! I need this fixed!” He made a point of ushering Geralt onto Roach, and Geralt watched with fond amusement as the bard muttered under his breath until they were finally ready and headed out. 

“You know,” Geralt pitched his voice for conversation, rather than imploring, hoping Jaskier would let him talk. “If we were to get back to the inn after I collect my earnings, we probably have just enough time to fuck and sleep and still get up to leave at first light without an issue.” He’d been watching Jaskier as he spoke, and he saw the other man stumble a little at his casual words, caught off guard with the sudden change in topics. 

“I –  _ Geralt _ , you can’t just, I mean, you did, but I’m not as easy as to be willing to trade – okay fine, maybe I am, you brute. Fuck. I hate this truth spell. I want my dignity back.” He crossed his arms, staring straight ahead instead of anywhere in Geralt’s vicinity. 

Geralt resisted the urge to sigh, aware that it would be a miserable week if he kept needling Jaskier and putting off the travel they needed to do. “Jaskier.” The other man stopped ranting and waited expectantly. “You’re being stupid.” Jaskier rolled his eyes but Geralt caught the flicker of a smile before he could cover it. 

“Well excuse me if I’m made a little stupid by you saying things like  _ that _ in that growl of yours, Geralt, I’m only human.” He froze after saying it, eyes darting to the other man. Geralt just snorted, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I guess we all have our flaws.” Jaskier spluttered again, this time mostly out of habit rather than any true annoyance. 

They walked in silence for a while longer, Jaskier slightly calmer with the silence as long as he was able to keep striding forward, putting some of his boundless energy into the walk, since he couldn’t put it into singing, or at least, not without having to monitor his words. Geralt looked at him now and again, admiring the easy pace he’d kept up for the last however long, barely out of breath. Geralt much admired that same energy when he had Jaskier in his bed, letting him work himself up and down Geralt’s cock. He did with great enthusiasm, and it never failed to make both of them come so hard they nearly passed out. 

Geralt spent a good amount of the ride thinking about sex with Jaskier and simultaniously forcing his erection down through his powerful self control. It wasn’t like he could masturbate while on Roach (out of respect for the horse) so he resigned himself to planning all the ways he wanted to touch his bard when they were finally alone. 

Getting back to the inn and getting paid was nothing special, and Geralt shooed Jaskier up to the room they’d already paid for through the next morning while he talked with the innkeeper, asking for their dinner to be sent up to them. The cranky old woman gave him a stiff nod, still uncomfortable with what he was, and he turned to take the stairs to meet Jaskier as soon as he was finished. 

When he entered the room, Jaskier lay on the bed, one arm thrown over his face in the most dramatic fashion possible. He looked like a novice actor aiming for ‘desolate’. Geralt just grunted at him, rolling his eyes at the theatrics. 

“Geralt, we don’t even know how long this is going to take to fix! And we probably have to talk to Yennefer, which really, of course we do. Do you think she’s going to learn that I got hit with truth potion and not take advantage of that?” Geralt gave him a hum to let him know he’d heard, counting on Jaskier to continue on talking as Geralt stowed his things. “And, of course, I won’t be able to seduce anyone; seduction is pretty much just lying, unless of course you’re  _ you _ , in which case you just stand there looking all broody and bed-able.” Geralt snorted at that, since in his long life Jaskier had been the only one to look at him and think ‘sex on a stick’. 

He finished putting his things down and walked over to the bed, unceremoniously picking Jaskier up and shifting him so Geralt could sit to unlace his boots. He pulled one and then the other off, dropping them to the floor before turning to Jaskier. 

“Well, if you don’t feel like seducing anyone, I can get a second room.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and swatted Geralt’s arm, wincing when his hand bounced off the muscular Witcher. 

“You don’t count, Geralt, you’re,” he paused, looking for the words. “You’re different.” Geralt gave him a hum, raising an eyebrow in question. Jaskier seemed to realize that he’d said something wrong and hurried to backtrack. “Not that, not that you’re not worth seducing, of course, but well, I don’t have to lie to you; you know how attractive I find you.” Geralt ‘harumph’ed and took the compliment. 

He was content to let the issue rest until the morning when they set off to find Jaskier a cure, but Jaskier was restless, fiddling with the covers and looking everywhere but at Geralt. “What is it, Jaskier?” Jaskier jumped and shot him a guilty glance. 

“There’s something I haven’t told you that I’m worried about blurting out during sex and I’d rather you know now and hate me than find out then and hate me.” Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, clearly very unhappy with himself, and Geralt felt a pang of regret at the thoughtless question. 

“Shit.” Jaskier’s eyes were still closed, and Geralt reached out for him, running a thumb over the pulse point at his wrist. He often touched Jaskier there, and Jaskier had a sneaking suspicion that Geralt was scenting him, covering him in Geralt’s smell so with every beat of his heart he’d be giving off Geralt’s smell. 

Jaskier let himself be tugged so Geralt sat on the bed against the wall, and Jaskier sat between his legs, cradled between muscular thighs. He sighed and leaned back against Geralt, turning his head to press his nose against Geralt’s chest. 

Geralt steadied himself, wrapping his arms around his bard. “I forgot about the potion, I’m sorry. If you want to talk about it, I’d like if you wanted to tell me what it is, but you don’t have to.” Jaskier sighed. 

“It’s not – it’s just, well, a lot, and I didn’t really plan on telling you at all.” Geralt stayed silent, waiting. “Only, it’s – a sex thing, kind of, just well, something I want to try. Haven’t, uh, tried.” He shifted against Geralt and Geralt held him closer, keeping their bodies pressed together. 

“Is it dangerous?” Geralt winced as he asked. Jaskier didn't make eye contact with him. 

“Uh, well, possibly? Define ‘dangerous.’” Jaskier’s hands fidgeted with the worn bedcovers, and Geralt’s eyes were drawn to them – long artist’s fingers, sculpted with callouses from years of playing. 

“....going to cause serious and potentially life threatening or otherwise untoward harm to either you or me.” 

“In that case, no, unlikely to be too dangerous. Well, nothing I wouldn’t enjoy.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s kind of hard to tell pain from pleasure, yeah?” Geralt blinked at him like he’d grown a third head. 

“No?” 

Jaskier took in the other man's confusion for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe it's just me. Either way, during sex, pain like a slap on the ass can feel good. Same thought applies here – yes I might be sore or something afterwards, but there's an incredibly low chance I'd regret it." 

Geralt didn't say anything further for a long moment, rolling it over in his mind. After another pause, he came to a decision. "If you wouldn't mind sharing it with me, I would like to hear it." Jaskier winced at his tone, flat as it was. 

"It's – uh. I mean, Geralt, come now, you've never needed – we've been good so far, haven't we? I don't need – I'm not–" 

He blew out a breath, trying to find the right words. Geralt reached for him, brushing a thumb over one cheek as he looked at Jaskier, concern clear in his eyes. 

"Would you prefer if I just asked you, so you'd have to say it and be done with it?" Jaskier's head bobbed almost immediately, a shy smile on his face. 

"I-If you don't mind, that'd, uh, probably be for the best. Quicker." He broke eye contact with Geralt, looking away once more. 

"What is this thing that you want from me, this thing you haven't told me?" Geralt's voice held no accusation, the words melodic as he murmured. Jaskier's breath hitched on an inhale and his fingers clawed into Geralt's skin, eyes screwed tightly shut. 

"I want you to rape me. Forcefully. While I'm begging you to stop and fighting you." Jaskier's voice was soft when he finally spoke, and Geralt took a few moments to actually register the words. 

"You – what?" Geralt blinked, his brain diverging in two directions at once – one half trying to piece together the situation he found himself in, the other half setting up a theater in his head where motor control used to be handled to daydream about how  _ unbelievably  _ hot that would be. 

He finally tuned back in when Jaskier replied, glaring at him. "I want you to rape me. Forcefully. While I'm begging you to stop and fighting you." He sighed, lying back and not looking at Geralt. "Why'd you have to make me say it a second time? Once was bad enough." Geralt winced, not realizing that his one word question activated the potion. 

"Hmm." When he didn't do more than grunt, Jaskier sighed again. 

"So, anyway, look, I'm not - I'm not trying to say you  _ would _ , just that – it's something I've always – kind of wanted to try, but I never had anyone I trusted enough, and you're – but I'm not saying that you have to be, uh, against it either, just because of–" He broke off to gesture helplessly at Geralt, who had no idea what the hand motion meant. "All of your – everything, and what have you, and well, I mean, I wasn't planning to ever tell you, I just knew that if we have sex I might get caught up and not watch what I'm saying and blurt something out, so well, yeah. Now you know. And since I've probably killed any interest you have in having sex with me ever again, I'm going to go uh, go for a walk. Outside. By myself." He made to get up and maneuver himself off the bed, and Geralt stopped him, one arm wrapping around the other man’s waist, pulling him back towards the center of the bed. 

“Wait.” 

Jaskier stopped moving, but his shoulders didn’t relax, even when Geralt brushed a thumb over his exposed hipbone. “Can – you didn’t kill any interest I have in having sex with you.” Jaskier looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Geralt shifted at the other man’s gaze, so full of hope that he nearly hurt to look at. 

“I didn’t? Okay, well that’s – better than I’d hoped. I’m glad for that.” Geralt grunted again and moved closer, nosing against Jaskier’s ear and the hair there. 

“I’m glad too.” Geralt’s words were barely more than a puff of air in Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier made a noise Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man make before. “Why did you think I wouldn’t like hearing that?” Jaskier pulled back, giving Geralt a disbelieving look. 

“Because it’s abnormal? Because it’s not something I should want?” His voice raised two octaves in two sentences but Geralt shrugged, not overly concerned with Jaskier’s reasoning so far. 

“So am I.” Geralt meant the statement to be factual, not inflammatory, but at his words Jaksier reared up, glaring. 

“You are no such thing, Geralt, and I’ll smack you if you say that again.” Geralt gave him a smirk, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh will you?” His tone implied that he wasn’t concerned in the slightest, the crook of his head daring Jaskier to try. 

“Yes.” Jaskier pounced on Geralt, using his weight to shove into the other man and push him onto his back. He straddled the larger man, anger and annoyance fueling his movements, and slapped both his hands down on Geralt’s chest. “You’re a good man, and I’m so fucking sick and tired of everyone always treating you like a freak. You’re - you act like you’re this, this  _ thing,  _ this  _ monster _ , and you let them say things that are so backwards and rooted in fear and superstition and treat you like shit!” Jaskier was breathing heavily and he didn’t look Geralt in the eyes, instead focusing on his own hands on Geralt’s chest. 

Geralt didn’t respond, and Jaskier smacked his chest again. “And you, you big emotionally constipated moron, you have the goddamn nerve not to care  _ at all _ that I want you to hold me down and make me cry and beg and scream and not listen to a thing I say and have your way with me. I care! I care about you, and I don’t want that to be all I want from you, all you think that you’re good for, playing the monster.” He paused and took a shaky breath, his hands curling into claws against Geralt’s skin. “I didn’t want you to think I thought you  _ were _ that monster, Geralt, because I know you’re more than that.” He finally swept his gaze up, looking at Geralt’s face, wincing in anticipation. 

He didn’t get a chance to register the expression on Geralt’s face before he was caught in a blur of motion, unexpected force moving around him with even more unexpected gentleness. When everything settled again, he found that Geralt had switched their positions and was now looming over Jaskier, one thick thigh pushed between Jaskier’s. Geralt’s face was close to his own, pupils so dilated that the gold irises were barely visible. Jaskier tried to open his mouth to say something, respond somehow, and found that he couldn’t speak with Geralt looking like that at him. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was low, and Jaskier shuddered at the sound. He managed to nod, still holding Geralt’s gaze. “Did you ever stop to think about  _ why _ people think I’m a monster?” Jaskier’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to respond. Geralt cut him off before he could. “It’s because I  _ am _ .” At that, Jaskier had to protest, pushing at Geralt’s chest and trying to argue at the same time. Geralt calmly gathered both of Jaskier’s hands in one of his own, pinning them easily above Jaskier’s head. Jaskier didn’t let that minor setback dissuade him out of his annoyance. 

“Geralt, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re not a monster, and I’ll not listen to you talk about yourself like that.” He managed to sound haughty even as he wriggled ineffectually against Geralt’s other hand pinning his shoulders back against the pillows. 

“Did you know with the enhanced Witcher senses I can smell some of the baser emotions?” Jaskier paused in his struggles, looking up at Geralt in curiosity at the change of topic. 

“I wasn’t aware of that specifically, no, although I was aware that you seem to be better at picking up on emotions than one would expect from someone so clearly lacking in that department.” Jaskier’s tone held no real bite, mostly annoyance at Geralt’s holding him so easily (not to mention no small amount of arousal as he found that despite his best efforts, he wasn’t getting out of Geralt’s hold unless the other man decided he was). Geralt raised an eyebrow at him again and he rolled his eyes, sighing. “Just tell me what you’re getting at, Geralt.” The other man leaned in, nosing behind Jaskier’s ear and down his neck. 

“It means I can tell when people are afraid. Angry. Aroused.” Ha paused, thinking. “Whether they washed their hands in the bathroom or not.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose at that – he was fastidious on the subject. “But the most important emotion, for a Witcher, is fear. We need to know when people are afraid, and what they’re afraid of. Trained to sense it specifically.” He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s neck, lingering for a moment. “And that means I know when you’re scared of me.” Jaskier spluttered. 

“I’m - I’m  _ not _ scared of you! Geralt! If you think I’m –” Geralt cut him off with a kiss, bruisingly hard. When they broke apart, Jaskier was panting and squirming in Geralt’s grip for an entirely different reason. “Fuck, okay, that was, that was  _ nice. _ ” He wriggled some more and Geralt stopped him by pressing his own body weight against Jaskier, holding him down firmly against the mattress. “Geralt, uh, not that - not that I’m not, okay, we are going to have the argument about that, but  _ later  _ because I’m going to need a whole lot more of you on top of me right now.” 

Instead of grunting his ascent and plowing Jaskier into the mattress, Geralt looked up, catching his eyes again. “Actually, I was getting to that. I can smell fear, and I know that you’re not afraid of me right now.” Jaskier whined in his throat, needing Geralt to  _ touch _ him more. “And I know that even if you were to tell me no, that you didn’t want it, if you were to  _ run _ ,” his voice was near a growl now, the last word heady with eager anticipation, and it sent shivers up Jaskier’s spine. “I’d know you wanted me. I’d be able to tell that you were loving every second of it, even as you begged and pleaded with me to let you go.” Jaskier’s eyes were half-lidded and he moaned, rutting against Geralt with no finesse, only urgency. “So no, I really don’t mind if you want to pretend that you don’t want me, when I know with every breath that you’re dying for me, you can’t want to feel me pushing inside of you and breaking you open.” 

Jaskier caught up with Geralt’s train of thought a few moments after he finished speaking - his distracted brain taking longer than usual to work through the meaning of the words. When he understood, however, he moaned anew, his efforts to break Geralt’s one-handed grip on his arms redoubled. “Geralt, wait, that’s – not that that’s not  _ incredibly alluring– _ ” Jaskier tried to use all of the strength in his upper body to push Geralt’s arm off of his hands, and got nowhere fast. “But what if you – what if you don’t notice it? What if I’m genuinely trying to say no?” Geralt seemed to consider that, cocking his head to one side. Jaskier’s hips hadn’t stopped rutting against his own, and he mindlessly responded, grinding their erections together. 

“Hmm, I doubt it. I know you, Jaskier.” Geralt grinned at him and Jaskier felt a shiver of something primal shoot up his spine, a physical reaction to Geralt baring his teeth. “I know you’ve probably been dying to ask me about that for ages, probably since before we started sleeping together.” Jaskier tugged harder, trying to free either of his arms to no success. His breath was coming heavier now, his eyes wider. 

Geralt leaned over, nosing across Jaskier’s skin and darting his tongue out to taste the other man and letting his witcher senses tell him everything Jaskier’s sweat was trying to say. Arousal, heightened adrenaline, but still no fear. No trace of anything to suggest he wanted Geralt anywhere but exactly where he was. 

“Was that it, the real reason you came to talk to me in that inn? Hoping the nice witcher would buy you a drink, maybe get a room upstairs and fuck you through the mattress?” Geralt’s tone was questioning and Jaskier whimpered weakly, shaking his head. 

“It - it wasn’t like that, you know that’s not–” Geralt shushed him with one giant hand laid gently over Jaskier’s mouth, not pressing in too firmly, just the suggestion. 

“Shh. Jaskier.” Jaskier stopped trying to talk through Geralt’s hand and quieted, looking up at him with eyebrows pulled together. “It’s okay.” Geralt leaned down, putting his face closer to Jaskier’s and looking him in the eye. “I’ll give you what you need, alright?” He stroked Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb where his hand was still pressed over the bard’s mouth. Jaskier seemed to get what he meant, at that point, and his eyes widened. 

“Mmph,” Jaskier grunted loudly, or tried to through Geralt’s hand, although the other man successfully muffled most of the sound. Geralt frowned at him, considering. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. If you can’t talk, are you even you anymore?” Jaskier rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to dislodge Geralt’s hand. Geralt frowned at him again and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take my hand off your mouth if you don’t scream. I don’t think you or I really want to explain what we’re in the middle of to the innkeeper, do you?” He raised an eyebrow, and took his hand off Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Not particularly, no, but I was actually going to say something else.” Geralt cocked his head at the man beneath him, waiting. “You do remember I’m currently  _ under the influence of a truth potion _ , right?” That actually stopped Geralt in his tracks, making him pause. 

“Oh. Actually, I forgot that part.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, and Geralt’s head snapped up to look him in the face. “Wait.” His whole body froze, and he carefully took both hands off Jaskier, looking him up and down. “You didn’t - you didn’t smell like fear, but, you can’t lie. Did you want me to stop?” His eyes were wide and Jaskier saw the ghost of something cross his face before he was reaching out, pulling Geralt back towards him. 

“No, I was very alright with what we were doing, that was – you are – Geralt, that’s everything I’ve ever wanted and you make it look  _ effortless _ .” Geralt seemed a little less hesitant and he let Jaskier move his hands back to Jaskier’s body, one on his hip and one on his chest. “I never actually said no, just asked questions. That shouldn’t trigger the truth serum.” He placed one hand on Geralt’s chest, thumbing over a nipple and grinning when Geralt hissed. “But I have a suggestion. Two, actually.” Geralt waited to hear them, looking at Jaskier openly. “First option is that we wait until this stupid curse is lifted.” He shrugged, looking Geralt up and down. “I’m absolutely fine having sex with you and being into it.” He smirked at Geralt. “But option number two is that you gag me so I can’t talk and let me try to fight you." Geralt felt his mouth go dry at that thought. “Of course, I don’t think I’d want to stop at any point, but you being able to smell fear takes away any reservations I might have had.” 

Geralt’s hands tightened on Jaskier’s body without his having told them to do so, and he looked down at Jaskier, still mostly pinned underneath him. Jaskier had moved his arms when Geralt let go of him, and now he was comfortably stroking his hands down Geralt’s thighs, soothing him. 

“Are you sure? What if - what if I don’t notice? Or if I’m so caught up that I – I don’t want to hurt you.” Geralt’s voice was small and he held Jaskier’s eyes earnestly. If he hadn’t been pinning Jaskier down and threatening him minutes before, Jaskier would have sworn someone had switched his Geralt for an imposter. His reminder about the potion seemed to have shaken something loose inside Geralt, reminding him that Jaskier was out of the normal when it came to being totally unafraid of Geralt, of wanting him to be rough.

“Oh no, we’re not doing this.” Jaskier sat up pushing Geralt back until they were kneeling, facing each other. “Geralt, I’m not afraid of you, and I’m  _ very excited _ that you want to be rough with me. I am not above begging if that’s what it takes.” He held up his wrists, offering them to geralt. “Geralt I’m  _ asking _ you to hurt me.” His wrists were already blossoming with purple marks where Geralt was holding him, a perfect handprint covering the span of skin. Geralt lifted his hand to the mark, pressed in just enough to make Jaskier wince. Geralt froze again, and then looked sharply at Jaskier, who just raised his eyebrows in confusion. “What?” 

Geralt leaned closer to him, pressing his nose against Jaskier’s neck. “I pushed, you flinched, but, you smell – you’re  _ aroused _ .” Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralt. 

“Yes, well, hadn’t I just finished explaining that?” Geralt growled at him and Jaskier gave a small ‘meep’ of surprise, just in time for Geralt to move faster than Jaskier could track. 

Jaskier found himself on his back once more, with Geralt above him. Geralt’s bulk held him down firmly, pressing him into the slim mattress and making him moan softly. “Gods, Geralt, you’re – fuck, sometimes I forget how fast you can really be, with those senses of yours.” 

On top of him, Geralt growled, twisting away from Jaskier to reach for – there was a small vial of oil on the side table and he grabbed it, whipping back towards Jaskier with inhuman speed. 

“Yeah, I’m glad.” Geralt’s murmur was low, and Jaskier had to strain to hear the words, not sure if he was even meant to hear them. “Most people don’t like the reminder they’re bedding a monster.” 

Jaskier’s mouth was open to protest before Geralt had even finished speaking, but Geralt put one large hand over his mouth, blocking his protests. He looked Jaskier in the eyes, briefly, and then looked away like it hurt to look at him. “Please, don’t.” Jaskier blinked once in response. “I know, and I just – can we talk about that later?” He nosed along Jaskier’s neck, and felt the tension slowly ebb from the other man’s body. “I just – I would like to have you. We can bitch at each other later.” Jaskier nodded and Geralt removed his hand. 

“Fine, but don’t think you’re getting out of it.” Geralt gave him a cheek-twitch smile and then it was gone before Jaskier could fully appreciate it. “Now fuck me like you mean it.” Geralt obliged, pushing Jaskier back down on the bed and holding him there easily. Geralt looked around for something to use as a gag and spotted Jaskier’s shirt hanging off the side of the bed. He grabbed it and wrapped one sleeve around Jaskier’s mouth, ignoring his cut off noise of protest that they’d damage his shirt. When Jaskier’s eyes narrowed over the shirtsleeve Geralt unceremoniously tied off behind his head, Geralt just  _ looked _ at him, daring him to protest. No protest came. 

Geralt raised one hand to Jaskier’s chest and used his pointer and index fingers to tap three times on Jaskier’s chest, right above his heart. “Three times. Tap like that if you want me to stop.” Geralt kept eye contact with Jaskier, watching the words roll past the bard’s head. “Do it. I want to know that you understand me.” Jaskier rolled his eyes over the fabric in his mouth but reached up to tap three times on Geralt’s thigh. 

His hand landed on Geralt’s thigh after he finished, smoothing down the fabric and settling, a white hot heat that seemed to pass through Geralt’s trousers and sear him to the core. The trust that Jaskier put in him still shocked him sometimes, the way the other man wasn’t ever afraid of him, even when Geralt was trying to scare him away from doing something incredibly stupid. 

Geralt shook his head, trying to clear his maudlin thoughts, and looked back down at Jaskier. “Alright, then.” He moved back, letting Jaskier sit up. Jaskier quirked a brow at him, levering himself up so he was more or less eye level with Geralt, who’d lounged back against the bedframe. “Run.” 

Upon hearing that, Jaskier listened to Geralt for once in his life, and took off. He leapt down from the bed, landing heavily on the wooden floor and dropping into a crouch before standing and turning for the door. He did run, Geralt was pleased to see, and it looked like he was putting in all he had as he took off for the door without looking back. 

He didn’t reach the door. Geralt was on him before he got halfway across the room, slamming into him broadly and knocking them both to the ground. Geralt managed to turn them in midair so Jaskier landed on top of him, instead of the other way around, but he still felt the bard’s small exhalation as they hit the ground. Jaskier was quick, though, and he scrambled back, off of Geralt and as far from as he could get in the small room. Geralt didn’t let him get far, flipping onto his knees and prowling towards the other man. 

He reached him in short order and pinned him without difficulty, pushing so Jaskier was facedown against the wood floor and Geralt had a knee between his shoulder blades, keeping him there. 

Jaskier grunted through the gag, hands coming up to try to pull it off, but Geralt quickly gathered both of Jaskier’s hands in one of his own, holding them easily behind the other man’s back. “Oh no, not yet.” Jaskier wriggled, trying to break Geralt’s grasp, but he had no chance of it. 

Geralt, upon looking down and seeing his bard, pinned and squirming underneath him, found it to be a sight he quite liked. He hummed, shifting so that he sat astride Jaskier, and used the rest of the shirt that so effectively kept him quiet to tie his hands behind his back. Once he was finished, Jaskier was trussed so tightly that he’d probably have to be cut out of the shirt, and Geralt would no doubt have to hear about it for months, if not years. 

He squirmed against the bindings, trying to untie them or rip the shirt, but found that Geralt’s work was too tidy and that he was stuck. Geralt didn’t let that sink in, though, instead moving backward and fishing out the vial of oil from his pocket. He pulled Jaskier up so he had his knees under him, most of his weight uncomfortably resting on his shoulders and neck as he couldn’t hold himself up by his hands or arms. He was forced to turn his head, breathing shallowly through his nose as he struggled against the bindings. 

Geralt leaned forward and licked a path up Jaskier’s naked back, tasting the sweat and arousal and triple checking that there was no hint of fear coming from Jaskier before he growled, pulling the other man back and rutting against him through their remaining clothes. 

“Hmm.” He got his hands around Jaskier’s middle, unlacing his breeches and tugging them down until he was exposed, his erection unflagging as it bounced against his stomach and baring his ass to the cool air. Jaskier grunted at the rough treatment, his hips bucking into nothing as he tried to get friction on himself. “No.” Geralt absent-mindedly slapped Jaskier’s ass in warning as he focused on opening the oil, and merely rolled his eyes when the action caused the bard to groan wantonly through the gag, his cock leaking even as he tried to wriggle out of Geralt’s grip on his thighs.

Geralt paid him no mind, slicking his fingers up and using his other hand to hold Jaskier in place. He wasn’t sure how much actual pain Jaskier wanted, so he started with two fingers, pushing against Jaskier’s hole briefly before forcing his fingers in, pumping rhythmically deeper even as Jaskier cried out. Geralt worried it might have been too much, but as he kept moving, working his fingers in and out of Jaskier, he could smell the bard’s unflagging arousal. He added a third finger a little sooner than he would have otherwise and was rewarded with another grunt and some more delicious wriggling as Jaskier panted underneath him. 

When Jaskier was ready enough, Geralt pulled his fingers from the tight wetness that was Jaskier. Jaskier grunted at the loss, spreading his knees a little further apart. Geralt one-handedly opened his own trousers and pulled himself out before wrapping a massive hand around both of Jaskier’s thighs and  _ pulling _ so they were flush, his dick rubbing against the cleft of Jaskier’s ass. He didn’t tease long, and without any more delay he sunk into Jaskier, both of them moaning when he bottomed out, pressed tightly against the other man. 

Geralt hadn’t ever been that much of a talker, but the sight of Jaskier before him, full of his dick and unable to do anything but lay there and  _ take it _ made something primal inside of him very happy. “Hnngh, fuck.” He used his grip on Jaskier to pull out and shove back in hard, probably sooner than the bard was ready for it. “Fuck, Jas, you’re - you’re  _ mine. _ ” Jaskier groaned through the gag, hips pushing back against Geralt even as he was fighting Geralt’s hands on his hips, trying to pull away. Geralt held tight, hauling him back and thrusting deep into him once again. 

Geralt didn’t waste any more time, speeding up the pace of his thrusts until every one would have pushed Jaskier half a foot forward if Geralt hadn’t had an iron grip on his thighs, holding him in place. He angled his hips and soon every thrust was grazing Jaskier’s prostate, and Jaskier keened, arching his back. 

It took him a moment to notice when Jaskier started crying, salty tears leaking out of his eyes and falling to the floor. Geralt straightened before leaning forward, pressing his nose and mouth against Jaskier’s neck without stopping the rhythm of his hips against Jaskier’s. He licked and nipped at the skin there, worrying it with his teeth and inhaling deeply. There was still nothing in Jaskier’s scent that would indicate he was unhappy with the proceedings, aside from the tears, and Geralt decided to trust that if Jaskier wanted him to stop, he’d indicate so. 

It didn’t take long to build up to the edge, and Geralt clenched his teeth, staving off his orgasm even as he fucked into Jaskier, holding him steady. Jaskier was still crying, not making a show of it but sniffling quietly against the floor, and Geralt took one hand off his hips, wrapping his arm around Jaskier to grab for his dick. He found the bard hard and leaking against his stomach, and when he pulled roughly on Jaskier, the smaller man cried out, his body wrenching even as he tried to thrust into Geralt’s hand, trying to get more friction. Geralt gave it to him, making a tight circle with his fist and letting Jaskier buck into him. Jaskier only took another two or three thrusts before he was crying out through the gag, sobbing his release. Feeling Jaskier coming around him pushed Geralt over the edge as well and he roared, biting down  _ hard _ on Jaskier’s neck as he came, leaving what would probably end up as a very dark bruise as he spent himself inside Jaskier, filling him. 

Geralt had to focus quite a bit in order to keep from squishing Jaskier as he came down from his orgasm, instead pulling out and collapsing to the side of the bard, who was still kneeling on the hard ground, head turned towards Geralt as he heaved in breaths. As soon as he had enough brain function, Geralt reached up and ripped the shirt holding Jaskier’s arms behind him, pulling it from his face as well. 

Jaskier, once he was free, collapsed as well, rolling so his face was pushed into Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s arms came up around him instinctively, holding him close even as he pushed his nose into Jaskier’s hair, smelling his scent. Jaskier’s breathing took a while to even out, going from small hitching sobs to a softer sound after a while. Once they’d both gotten their breath back, Geralt loosened his arms and Jaskier looked up at him. 

Geralt spoke first. “Was - was that what you wanted?” Geralt hated how fragile he sounded, how unsure. He’d never been unsure about the bard like this before, but he needed to know he hadn’t hurt him for real. 

“That was - that was  _ amazing _ .” Jaskier sounded well and truly blissed out and Geralt sighed, the last knot of tension in his chest loosening as he heard the words. He smiled softly for a moment before pulling himself to his knees. Jaskier made a soft ‘oof’ noise when Geralt picked him up, carrying him over to the bed. When Geralt set him down on the covers, he held out a hand, keening until Geralt moved closer, letting Jaskier rest a hand against his flank as he finished pulling his trousers off. Once he was suitably naked, Geralt slipped into the bed behind Jaskier. 

He spooned Jaskier, sidling up behind him and pressing so they were touching from toes to neck. Jaskier was already nearly asleep, and he pressed sleepily back into Geralt, murmuring as they came together. Both of them were sticky and Geralt could tell that his come was leaking out of Jaskier in a way that he’d probably get an earful for in the morning, but he found his own lids drooping as well. He nuzzled into Jaskier’s neck and pressed a sleepy kiss before settling in to sleep himself. They’d figure everything else out in the morning. 


End file.
